Mew.

Star was bugging me like crazy this morning. She kept following me around like, "mew? mewmew? mew mewmew mew mew?" I'd pick her up, hold her for awhile, and then she'd squirm away, only to be back again a few minutes later doing the same thing. Finally I decided that she was cold and using me to warm herself up, because it was rainy and overcast this morning and since we haven't needed to turn the heat on in months it WAS kind of chilly in the house. So I set up her little winter-time heating pad and she happily jumped up and fell asleep on it, not to bug me again for the rest of the day. So then just before Brett switched places with me so that I could use his computer (since mine is STILL stuck in fucking Shenzhen) I went over to give her some unwanted attention and she looked so relaxed it was comical. Her fur was all unkempt and sticking out at odd angles, and she had this droopy-eyed stoned look on her face like she wasn't getting up for aaanything. I think that if she was to get TOO hot she'd know to get up, right? Let's hope.

Anyway, so I finally saw Spencer Tunick's Naked States. It was exactly as good as I thought it would be (which was pretty good), so I'll be bumping up Naked World to the top of my queue now. Brett was funny and had no idea what I was talking about when I was trying to explain what it was, so it was tough to get him to want to watch it, but I think he liked it too. As soon as I start to explain it though I knew he wasn't in to it. "It's a documentary about this artist..." was as far as I got before he scrunched up his face and started to protest. But I made him let me finish and after I'd explained that there would be lots of naked people I knew I had a chance. In the end, the argument I used to get it on the screen was "you don't even have to pay attention." And he agreed to watch it from behind the shielding normalcy of Civilization or whatever the crap he was doing on his laptop the whole time. But he DID pay attention and did like it, so yay!

We also saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory this weekend, with Shannon, who I'm happy to say will be in town for a few weeks. I knew Tim Burton's movie would be truer to the creepy, trippy vision of Roald Dahl than the old movie was, and I was correct. What a long, strange trip it was. Still suitable for children, but I'd say probably more suitable for the older kind of child, who has more candy on his sweaty wrist than in his sticky little hand. If you know what I mean. But even though none of us are any kind of child, we all three still liked it, and we'll probably buy it. We'll definitely buy The Corpse Bride though. They played a trailer for that before the Chocolate Factory and I'm already in love. Tim Burton is the coolest ever.

And last of all, while going through some of my old papers this weekend I bravely read a line of something to Brett, which he then felt I needed to post online. It's like, not related to anything else I've talked about, because I really didn't feel like talking about religion just to tie in this dumb quote of myself, but here goes:

lines drawn with human imperfection
raise mortal egos to delusions of permanence

Totally.
Fucking.
Lame.
Not a poem, not a...anything, really. But still, that's my reaction to the idea that people are just fo' sho' going to live eternally in some literal "heaven". Like being just a brief and tiny piece of this amazing universe is so ugly and unacceptable. So whatevs...it's well put I guess. And I'm going to bed.